Trying Not to Love You
by Cherry Punch
Summary: Chris di Angelo isn't too thrilled to stay on Olympus for a week with his family. He's more used to the gloom of the Underworld than he is the charm Olympus offers. But Robin Jackson could never understand that. What in the world would she see in him?
1. Glad You Came

**(A/N) Hey guys! So, I'm aware I should probably not start another story, but consider this a one shot. I love these characters, but I want to know that you love them, too. I'm not saying review, because frankly there is nothing more off putting than someone who begs for reviews. Just let me know somehow you like them enough for another chapter. If they do become a story, they will be a series of one shots somewhat like this one. Love you guys! (A/N) **

"Mona! Come here!"

I stood by my dad, trying to at least look interested in the conversation. To some degree, I didn't need to act. Right in front of me, in the flesh, was Percy Jackson. I had grown up hearing stories about the guy, so it was almost surreal to meet him in person. Not to mention Annabeth Jackson, who had designed the whole freaking place. It was a childhood dream come true, to some extent.

That didn't mean I was feeling any better about having to stay on Olympus for a week. It was beautiful and all, but I wasn't particularly thrilled to be there. I was practically born for the Underworld, my dad being a son of Hades and my mom a daughter of Thanatos. I wasn't goth or emo in any sense, but I wasn't used to so much brightness either.

I was so caught up in my thoughts I hardly noticed when the blonde girl appeared next to Percy. It wasn't until I felt my dad nudge my shoulder that I looked up and realized, red faced, that the girl was holding her hand out. I stared at her for a second, still blushing furiously. She had a huge smile plastered on her face. Her eyes were green like her fathers, and I couldn't help but notice how happy they were. In her dads eyes you could see friendliness, sure. But more prominent was the power, as if the ocean actually existed in them. There was none of this in the girl's. Her eyes were almost vulnerably sweet. Instantly I felt the need to shield her from the world. Her hair was blonde like her moms, but straight. I couldn't help but notice how short she was. She was undoubtedly my age, but she was a head shorter as well. This wasn't helping me as I attempted to shoo away the protectiveness I felt towards this complete stranger.

I grabbed her hand in mine. I couldn't help but smile back at her lopsided grin.

"Chris. It's nice to meet you," I said, too formally than I would've liked.

Her nose wrinkled a little as her smile grew. "Robin. But you can call me Mona. All by friends call me Mona."

I'm not sure if I imagined the pink tint in her cheeks as she said that. But, it I knew anything anymore, it was that the week had just gotten a billion times better.

**(A/N) Don't forget to let me know somehow if you do like this. If enough people enjoy, Chris and Mona will be back soon! **

**~Cherry Punch**


	2. Lost in You

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO **

I knocked on the door timidly, slightly embarrassed. Taking a step back, my eyes began to wander. The door and the walls surrounding it had been painted. I don't mean one solid, normal color. No, I mean it had been _painted_; like, by an artist. As far as I could tell the mural was abstract. It looked like a billion tropical flowers had exploded on the door, and all the pieces had been blasted onto the walls. It looked like, well, happy. There was no other way to describe the flower blast before me.

"Coming," a voice called from inside. I waited, my hands shoved into my pockets.

The door flew to the side and in its place stood Mona. Her ever-present smile greeted me. The green of her eyes really brought out the white paint smear on her upper cheek.

"Hey," she said, staring up at me.

"Hi," I said, her stupid infectious smile creeping onto my face. "You, um," I muttered, pointing at my cheek. Her eyebrows furrowed before her eyes brightened with realization.

"Oh," she said, laughing. He rubbed the heel of her hand over the spot, managing to make it worse. "Better?"

"Um, you almost got it." She rubbed it harder. Most of it came off, but there was still a small spot left. You know when the teacher erases the board and they leave just a little dot of marker, and for the rest of class that's all you can focus on? It felt sort of like that.

That may be what compelled me to reach forward and press my thumb over the paint. I dragged the white off, smiling at her when it was all gone.

"Perfect," I said.

She smiled appreciatively. "Awesome. You ready?"

"Yeah," I said, stepping to the side so she could walk out. I saw that her jeans had a few drops of paint on them, too. Her shirt, a gray sweater just a few sizes too big, seemed mostly unharmed.

She led us down the stairs into the open courtyard where a few nymphs of some kind were prancing around, waving at Mona as we walked by.

"So, where do you want to go first?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what there is here."

"I think the question is, what could you see here that isn't in dreary old California," she said, a hint of a joke creeping into her voice. I actually half laughed at it, too. "What kind of stuff are you into?"

"I don't know," I said, honestly trying to think of something I liked. "What do you like here?"

Her eyes twinkled with excitement, but they dulled slightly as she said, "I like the art gallery, but you wouldn't like that kind of stuff."

Maybe it was my desperation to see her eyes sparkle again, but I found myself wanting to go to the gallery. I was ninety percent sure my mom had made me go on this tour of Olympus with Mona to ensure I had at least one friend on Olympus. There was no doubt in my mind she had her own motherly reasons for making me go with Mona instead of one of her brothers. Not that I minded at all.

"That sounds, fun?"

She laughed. "Seriously, you wouldn't like it. It's just a bunch of minor gods shuffling around looking at sculptures and stuff. You wouldn't care."

"You don't know that," I said, even though I was pretty sure she was right.

She gave me a skeptical look. I resisted the urge to meet her gaze, though the feeling of her eyes on me was slightly uncomfortable.

"Fine, but don't come running to me when you realize I'm right."

"Don't worry," I assured her, shaking my head with a smirk.

As it turns out, Mona was wrong. Sure, she had to explain to me what everything was and who everything belonged to. The thing was, I think I enjoyed her more than I did the art. But, I could love art too, if it made her happy. I wasn't into all of that, but I was into the way her face lit up every time she saw a painting she had obviously seen a billion times before.

"Knock it off, di Angelo! Come on, man up," I hissed under my breath.

"What?" She asked, looking over at me. I shook my head, focusing back on the statue of Apollo. If she thought I was crazy, she wasn't going to say anything.

The next thing we saw was a statue of an armless Aphrodite. Her hair was pinned up, and the only thing she wore was a sheet around her legs. There was no arguing she was pretty, but I looked back at Mona's long blonde hair and her shining green eyes.

Aphrodite may be pretty, but Mona was the definition of beautiful.

**(A/N) Thank you guys so much for your support of this story. I love seeing your reviews and such. So, obviously, I've decided to continue the story. **

**Love you guys!**

**~Cherry Punch**


	3. Blame it on the Girls

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO**

I stood to the side. Ryan, being the oldest, stood by Dad while Will, who was younger than Ryan by fifteen minutes, stood at Mom's side. My dress could not be less comfortable. If I wasn't standing up completely straight, I was suffocating. It was worth the suffering, though. My parents were getting recognized again for their amazing feats, even so long after they had done them.

I flashed my Mom a thumbs up when she glanced over. To be honest, I was less than convinced I was necessary to the ceremony. Maybe I was there to reassure my family, but they didn't need reassurance. Maybe I was there to see Chris.

I was there because it was required, for reasons beyond my comprehension.

Chris stood at his dad's side, leaving me to stand with his mom and his younger sister. We had a table, but it seemed Mrs. di Angelo was having the same problem with sitting in her dress: she couldn't unless absolutely necessary.

I think he got most of his looks from her. Her hair was bright red, obviously dyed. I presume it was naturally blonde, which would make his hair color make sense. Her skin was a little on the dark side, probably from her father. I've heard he has beautiful cocoa skin. Chris' skin wasn't as dark, but his flesh held more pigment than his fathers did. A lot more, actually. Looking at the two of them, you could tell they were related, but barely.

"I've heard you are an artist, no?" Mrs. di Angelo said with a smile, bringing the champagne glass to her cherry red lips. I couldn't help but notice her lipstick matched her hair color.

"A little bit, yeah," I answered, returning the smile.

"Momma, I'm bored," Jenna complained. Being only seven, her dress allowed her the luxury of being able to sit. Mine was tighter than a guitar string.

"I know, my love," Mrs. di Angelo murmured. "But the gods move at their own speed, and we must respect that." Jenna huffed at that. I smiled down at her.

Chris had told me a little about his sister. She had been born schizophrenic, seeing things that just didn't exist. I didn't know much about it, like what exactly she saw, but the fact he had told me that much meant a lot.

You probably wouldn't know that by looking at her. She seemed like an average seven year old. Nothing about her appearance suggested she was any different than I was. Not that I was anything close to normal.

It almost hurt me to think about. This girl had to live with being the offspring of two demigods, but then she had to add schizophrenia to the list of things that separated her from mortal society. Many people probably don't even believe it when they hear it, because it's technically not possible. The disease can only develop after the age of five. Being born with it is not only unheard of, but it is generally accepted as impossible.

She examined me with untrusting eyes, something I had been expecting. I returned the gaze, and after a while she ignored me. That gave me time to talk with Mrs. di Angelo a little more. She was a therapist, I learned, for people who could see the dead. It seemed appropriate, I suppose.

"You know, I work with clients who just need someone to talk to, as well," she said, staring me in the eye. I knew what she was doing. Over the years I had been shoved in quite a few shrinks' offices. She was trying to read my expression, to gauge how much her comment affected me. Obviously she had heard a few of the Jacksons' secrets.

I managed to keep my face normal, a smile on my lips again. "That's cool. I don't think I could ever do that."

I had too many of my own problems to deal with.

**(A/N) So, here's a little bit of Mona's POV. There was a little you were supposed to get from this chapter. Implied stuff, really. **

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and favorite and followed. I can't explain how much it means to me. Writing is one of my only true passions, and I'm happy I've found a way to share it with the world. **

**Also, a very special thanks to JadeDragon220, who's inspired me to keep writing. For a while I was considering dropping everything. And while I'm pretty sure this will be my last story on FanFiction, I'm going to try really, really hard to continue this project. I have a few ideas on where it's going, so thanks to Jade for unintentionally convincing me to bring this story to you for a little while longer.**

**Love you guys.**

**~Cherry Punch**


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